Denouement
by liviafan1
Summary: His hands sift through the box, memories and bits of their time together. He's surprised that he doesn't find his heart on the bottom, laying in pieces under the debris of their relationship that she's seen fit to toss inside. COMPLETE.


He's a bundle of anxiety, nervous energy that won't stop coursing through his veins. It took him ten minutes just to button his shirt this morning because his hands wouldn't stop shaking. He hadn't been able to stomach the breakfast that Alexis had made him, reassuring her that it was just some stomach bug going around. She eyed him skeptically, her eyes flicking to the sweat above his brow and the extra lines that had been etched across his face for the better part of twelve hours. He waited for her to pry, but instead she brushed a kiss across his forehead and left him to ponder his fate.

He buys two coffees for her because he'd dropped the first one. As he counts the bills in his clammy palms, he orders a bear claw at the last minute. She hasn't eaten one in ages, but he thinks it can't hurt. He isn't taking any chances today.

He fidgets as the elevator car travels to their floor. He's early, almost by an entire hour. Maybe if he's lucky he'll even make it in before her, won't have to watch her back stiffen and her knuckles clench when she sees him approach her. But then again, luck really hasn't been on his side lately.

He walks off the elevator, holding his breath. He scans the bullpen; everything seems to be in order. A few uniforms in the corner are huddled over a file and if he cranes his neck he's sure he'll see Gates barking orders over the phone. He lets out a puff of air. Maybe it won't be as bad as he thinks.

He shoots a smile at Ryan and Esposito as they step out of the break room, unprepared for the guilty, knowing glances they exchange before ducking their heads to scamper to their desks.

He shuffles to her desk, sets the coffee and pastry in front of the computer. He realizes with a start that his chair is gone. In its place is a cardboard box with the flaps ripped off, as if the owner couldn't even be bothered to cut the tops off. His mouth goes dry. He picks up the box gingerly and sets it on top of her desk, peering at the contents.

It's worse than he could've imagined.

His vest is the first thing he sees, thrown on top like an afterthought. He lifts it out, his breath catching in his throat. He tucks it under his arm as his fingers wrap around the ceramic elephant he'd gotten her for her last birthday. His eyes flit to the corner of her desk. Sure enough, it's the only one missing.

His trembling hand finds shreds of paper, documents torn in half. It's his waiver, the one he signed when he started shadowing her.

Jesus.

His manuscripts are in there, too, the advanced copies he'd wrangled for her. His hands sift through the rest, memories and bits of their time together.

He's surprised that he doesn't find his heart on the bottom, laying in pieces under the debris of their relationship.

He swallows hard, lifts his head to find Ryan and Esposito flanking him.

"You okay, bro?"

"I didn't think she meant it," he says quietly.

"What happened?" Ryan asks.

He shakes his head, doesn't want to relive it all. Anyway, he's sure that if he tells them everything he's been keeping not only from her, but from _them_, that they'll finish him off. He's too selfish to give them up, too.

Not that he was giving her up. Hell, no. Not without a fight.

"Where is she?"

"We aren't sure. She came in about an hour ago and didn't say a single word, just threw your stuff in the box and left." Ryan hesitates, his eyes flicking to Esposito's.

"What is it?" Castle asks.

"She just…I don't think I've ever seen Beckett that angry."

Esposito shudders.

"I've gotta find her."

Esposito claps him on the shoulder. "Good luck, bro."

Castle grabs the box, forgoing the coffee and bear claw, just in case she comes back.

* * *

><p>He can't say he's surprised when she doesn't answer the door, if she's even there. He doesn't see any movement under the door, but that doesn't mean much. He calls her cell, but it goes directly to voicemail. He thinks he hears a faint ringing from within, but he can't be certain.<p>

He pulls out a pen from his pocket and fishes in the box for a scrap of paper. He lifts the vest so that it lies flat on top. He scribbles a note on the paper and lays it flat on top.

_My heart deserves to be returned in person._

_-RC_

He searches their usual spots, but comes up empty. He isn't surprised, not in the slightest, but his heart sinks a little lower each time he fails to find her. He thinks she's probably back at the precinct, but he can't go back there. Not yet.

If he doesn't hear from her by tomorrow, he'll go back in the morning.

* * *

><p>He doesn't hear from her, but when he wakes up the next morning and retrieves the paper from outside the door, the box sits there.<p>

There isn't a note and it cuts him deeper than any spiteful words could. Her silence is deafening.

He won't go back today.

But he does return to her apartment with the box and a new note.

_You'll have to do better than that._

_-RC_

* * *

><p>He's boiling water on the stove—dinner for one—when he hears it. Or feels it, rather. Because he doesn't hear her quick rap against his door, he feels it deep inside him—cold and sharp. There isn't any doubt in his head that she's outside his door right now, lips pursed, ready to shove the box in his arms and hightail it out of there.<p>

He turns the stove down and sets a lid on top of the pan. He brushes a hand through his hair and dawdles to the door. He places a hand on the knob and takes a shuddering breath before slowly sliding the door open.

He doesn't think he's ever seen eyes so cold.

She shoves the box towards him, but he keeps his hands clenched at his side. She huffs, rolling her eyes.

"You really think that's gonna stop me, Rick?"

He perks up slightly at the sound of her voice, almost doesn't notice her start to drop the box to the floor. He grabs the box and wraps a hand around her wrist, dragging her into his apartment. She spins out of his grasp as he shuts the door behind them and pushes his back against it, arms folded across his chest.

"What the hell?"

"I'm not letting you leave until we finish this, Kate."

"Oh, it's already _finished_, Castle," she spits. "You ended whatever we had when you decided to go poking around my mother's case _again_ without my knowledge or consent."

He sighs, lets his head hit the door. "I already told you—"

"You were trying to protect me. Not good enough."

He shakes his head, furious now, and pushes away from the door. He's in her face now, close enough to watch her lips part in surprise at his boldness.

"So, what? I was supposed to watch you die, then? I already watched the light leave your eyes once, Kate, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna do it again."

"It's always about you isn't it, Castle?"

He takes a step back, dizzy with the way her calculated words swirl in his head.

"Did you ever once stop to think that for once, this isn't about you?" She presses further. The flash in her eyes clears his focus.

"You think Lanie wants to bury you, Kate? You think your own father, who lost his wife to a brutal murder, wants to put his daughter in the ground the same way? I don't think I'm the selfish one here."

She clenches her jaw. "I don't have to take this from you." He closes his eyes as she brushes past him.

Don't give up.

"He asked me to stop you, you know. Your father," he says quietly.

He hears her movement halt. He opens his eyes and turns around to face her. She turns around slowly, her questions lingering in the air between them.

"He came to me before you were shot, thought that if there was anyone that could talk you out of it, it would be me," he chuckles mirthlessly.

She sighs, brushing a hand over the tight line of her mouth.

"You still should've told me."

They're talking in circles now; it keeps coming back to this.

"Watching you fall down that rabbit hole, Kate, is the second worse thing I've ever had to do in my life." He pauses. "The first was holding you in my arms while you bled out of your chest."

He's wearing her down. The lines in her face are starting to smooth and the tension in her body isn't quite as visible.

"It wasn't your call to make, Castle. I…" she trails off, lets her fingers trip over her lips in thought. "I appreciate it, I do. But you…" She shakes her head. "I don't know how to trust you again."

He swallows hard, steels himself for this next part. "Well, if you're waiting for an apology, you're not going to get one. I will _never_ apologize for keeping you safe."

"You could've been killed, Rick! You think Alexis or Martha want to bury your sorry ass, either?" He hears her voice break, catches on a shaky laugh at the end of her sentence.

"Kate—"

"_No_, Castle. The least you could've done was clue in Ryan or Esposito. Then at least you wouldn't have been flying blind on your own."

Hmm. He hadn't thought of _that._

She inches closer to him and he can see her tears quite clearly now.

"What makes you think I'd be any better off watching _you_ die?" she emphasizes with a poke to his chest.

His heart pounds in his chest and it hurts—God, it _hurts._

"I'm sorry."

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion. "I thought you said you wouldn't—"

He shakes his head. "I'm not. I'm apologizing for this."

His hand races to the back of her head and he's gently tugging her closer to him. He melds his mouth to hers, hauling the rest of her body against his. She stiffens in shock, but then her mouth eases open and her fingers rest gently on his hip. He can taste her tears as he threads his hands through her hair and she's warm, so warm.

This. _This _is where he wants to be. He'll earn back her trust, jump through whatever hoops she throws at him. He'll bring her coffee and a bear claw every day, three times a day, whatever she wants, if it means he can do this.

He releases her lips gently, listens as she lets out a little surprised gasp. He stifles a smile, loves that he caught her off guard.

And that she _liked_ it.

"You, uh, don't need to apologize for that," she says breathlessly. She ducks her head, corners of her lips twitching as she lets her hands fall back to hers side.

"We're gonna make it through this, aren't we?" He hates the way his voice wavers, the way the uncertainty weaves through his words.

"You gonna give up if I say no?"

"No."

She smiles and it's the first time it's reached her eyes in days.

"Good."

* * *

><p><strong>When I set out to write this evening, I had something fluffy somewhat outlined in my head. But then, I listened to The Fray's latest album (love them) and, well...this happened.<strong>

**Olivia**


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